


Charles Xavier's Baby

by Gerec



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles is a Professor, Crack, Erik is a Lawyer, Inspired by Bridget Jones's Baby, Logan is a Cop, M/M, Mpreg, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier is pregnant. With a baby. Due to a previously unknown secondary mutation. </p><p>He might be a little freaked out.</p><p>Also, there's a fifty percent chance his ex fathered his baby. And a fifty percent chance the new boyfriend knocked him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who's The Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ridiculous crack because I absolutely adore the mpreg, who's the daddy trope to pieces and the Bridget Jones's Baby trailer gave me the idea to write this fic. It was only supposed to a short ficlet...but then it bloomed to 5k of silliness with the potential for more shenanigans in the future...

“Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath for the fourth or fifth time, sitting on the edge of the tub with his cell in one hand and his head in the other. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“Charles!” Raven hollers as she bangs on the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for an _hour_! What the hell’s the matter with you? I’ve got a date in twenty minutes, I need my birth control!”

He starts to laugh hysterically, because if he doesn’t he’s going to _cry_ , and maybe he should have asked for some of Raven’s birth control because apparently he has a _secondary mutation_ of all things and condoms alone weren’t enough to keep him from getting knocked up?

And to add insult to injury, he has no bloody idea who fathered his baby?

“Charles! Open up or I’m going to--”

Thankfully, Raven stops yelling the moment the door swings open, and when she gets a look at Charles’ face she kneels on the tiled floor, hands gripping his shoulders as she stares into his wide eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Charles sighs. “I just got my test results from Moira.”

“Test results?” Raven asks, her voice starting to pitch a little high and frantic. “What test results? Are you sick? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong? Do you have cancer? Oh my god are you _dying_? Charles, you can’t die on me! What am I supposed to—”

“I’m not dying!” he shouts, just so he can put a stop to Raven’s hysterics. Charles answers her expectant look with an awkward grimace, and tries to explain as he pushes down his own rising panic. “I’m not dying, Raven. I’m…oh fuck, I’m _pregnant_.”

“What?” she blurts out, looking from his face to his stomach and then back again a few more times. “How? What? _How_?”

He doesn’t bother to answer with words, using his telepathy to show her the conversation with Moira over the phone, where the good doctor tried to reassure her best friend and favorite patient that the _baby was fine, Charles_ and _everything looks great don’t worry I’ll take care of you both_.

“Well shit.”

He snorts, and she gives him a sympathetic smile, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Who’s the baby’s father? Is it Erik’s?”

“Um…” Charles makes a face. “Maybe?”

“What the hell does _that_ mean? Did you or did you not get knocked up by your asshole ex-boyfriend, Charles?”

He takes a deep breath and gently holds both her hands between his own. “There’s at _least_ a fifty percent chance that the baby is Erik’s.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, did you guys have a three way again?”

“What? No!”

“Then who’s the other fifty percent?”

“Logan?”

“The cop?” Raven clarifies. “The one who pulled you over to give you a ticket and asked you out on a date instead? The one who thinks you’re the one he’s been looking for his whole life and practically asked you to live with him on the second date? The one moving even faster than _you_? _That_ Logan?”

Charles sighs again, rubbing his face with a tired hand. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

 

x

 

It takes Charles an entire week and another appointment with Moira, before the reality of his pregnancy truly sinks in.

And the fact that he really should be sharing the news with the other father.

Other _fathers_.

He picks up his cell and scrolls through his contact list, shooting off a quick text before he loses his nerve.

_Erik, we need to talk._

And then, thirty seconds later he sends another.

_Logan, we need to talk._

\-----

His ‘talk’ with Erik doesn’t really start out with any talking, since the moment he steps through the door Erik is on him, pinning him against the wall and kissing him breathless. He flails for a few moments, and lets himself get swept away in Erik’s arms – which really, isn’t this how he got into trouble in the first place? – before he manages to shove him away.

“Stop that,” Charles pants, straightening his jumper and running a hand through his hair. “I told you, we need to _talk._ ”

Erik stares at him like he doesn’t quite understand the words coming out of Charles’ mouth, and scowls. “I thought ‘ _we need to talk’_ was code for sex.”

“What? No!” he denies, and then, “okay, maybe it was but no, I mean _this_ time, we really need to talk.”

He doesn’t quite get an eye roll but it’s a close thing, though Erik does head to the cabinet and pour them both a glass of Charles’ favorite Scotch. Which Charles has to promptly refuse, making Erik shrug before flopping onto the couch and throwing his long, sexy legs up on the coffee table. “Alright, I’m listening. Talk.”

“Okay,” Charles starts, “Erik, you remember, the last time we…I mean it was a few months ago, and we got drunk--”

“ _You_ got drunk,” the bastard interrupts.

“Fine, _I_ got drunk, and we…well you know what we did. Anyway, I started feeling a little under the weather and so I went to see Moira…and I had no idea it was even possible! I mean how could I, it’s never happened before, though lord knows how, it’s not like I’ve led a terribly celibate life, you should have seen me at Oxford--”

“Charles,” Erik says, rather more patiently than usual as he takes a slow sip of his drink. “You’re rambling.”

He sighs, and wiggles his fingers at his temple. “It would be easier if I just showed you?”

Erik nods. “That’s fine.”

So Charles sends him highlights from the last few months; mornings spent hunched over the toilet, getting tired by the middle of the day and having to take naps, developing an inexplicable aversion to cheese and the smell of cooked chicken. He’s half way through his first appointment with Moira when Erik’s expression starts to change, eyes going comically wide, and he’s practically leaning off the couch by the time Charles gets to his bathroom freak out just last week.

“You’re…pregnant?” Erik whispers, like saying the word too loud might spook Charles. Which is not actually an inaccurate assessment.

“Um…yes?”

“You’re pregnant?” Erik says again, shaking his head like he can’t believe it, and has to say it aloud a few more times. “You’re…you’re really pregnant, aren’t you? You’re having a baby? My baby! We’re having a baby!”

And now would be a _really_ good time to tell him the other part of his news, that Erik might not be the baby’s father at all, on account of the fact that Charles met a rather nice man by the name of Logan Howlett since the last time he had sex with Erik, and yes there’s a good chance that _he_ might be the baby’s father.

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to open his mouth before Erik wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, kissing him again with all the passion and intensity of the first time they tumbled into bed.

Okay, it’s _every_ time they tumble into bed.

“So…you’re alright with this?” Charles asks, and Erik just smiles at him, grinning from ear to ear. “Because if you’re not, it’s fine, I understand it’s a lot to take in. And I don’t really expect anything from you, I mean I can afford to take care of the baby on my own, I--”

“Charles,” Erik interrupts with a laugh. “I’m more than alright. This is…I didn’t think we would…”

He trails off, but Charles knows everything that isn’t being said out loud. Erik thought that things were really over this time; that there was no going back to what they had before. But this baby could be the start of something new, something better. A family that Erik has always craved and Charles has never really considered.

“Wait here,” Erik says, stunning Charles with another open mouthed kiss. “I have to call my mother and tell her the good news.”

And now he’s well and truly fucked.

\-----

Charles is exhausted by the time he finally leaves the apartment, having spent the last thirty minutes on the phone with Erik’s mother Edie getting way more information than he’s ever cared to know about pregnancies, babies, and oh god – what it’s like _giving birth_. She is absolutely over the moon at the idea of a grandchild on the way, and it makes Charles feel like the worse kind of scum; that the baby she’s so excited about might not even be Erik’s. And it doesn’t help that his ex is sitting there watching him flail helplessly with half a grin on his stupidly handsome face, and Charles thinks he ought to punch him for knocking him up – yes he knows it’s only fifty percent likely to be Erik’s but _still_ – because _somebody_ needs to get punched before he completely loses it.

By the time he gets to Logan’s place he’s a total wreck, and in desperate need of a drink he can’t bloody have, and perhaps now is not the best time to have this talk again but he’s already here and fuck it if he doesn’t want to get it over with and then go home and crawl straight into bed for a week. And when the door opens and Logan takes one look at him and pulls him close – well, Charles just goes with it, because he just really, really needs a hug right now goddammit.

“Hey Chuck,” Logan says, leading him into the living room and clearing a spot for him on the couch. “Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so good.”

“I’ve been better,” he answers, because it’s hard to lie when he feels like death warmed over. “I just…there’s something I have to tell you, Logan, and I don’t really know what to say or how you’re going to react but—”

“Listen, you can tell me anything alright? But maybe before you do that I can get you something? Do you want a drink? Or a cup of tea? I picked up some of your favorite Earl Grey. I’ve got some aspirin too if you’ve got a headache? Let me take care of you.”

He doesn’t quite lose it then but it’s a close thing, Logan’s offer easing just a little of the anxiety he’s been carrying around since Moira’s call. Charles wraps himself around Logan like an octopus and just breathes in and out for a few minutes as the man rubs slow circles on his back, and tries to come up with the best way to break the news.

“I’m pregnant,” is what he blurts out moments later, surprising them both as Logan’s arm stills, the man going stiff with shock as Charles continues. “I have a secondary mutation that means I can get pregnant. And I am. Pregnant. With a baby. Do you have any chamomile?”

Logan gently pulls away from Charles and gives him a look, a rather indecipherable one since they’ve only known each other for a few months and Charles hasn’t got his facial expressions figured out yet. But he’s not radiating panic or disgust or any other negative emotion that Charles can pick up, which is good, because he’s freaked out enough for the both of them (for the _three_ of them) already.

“Sorry, no chamomile,” Logan replies, giving Charles a soft kiss on the forehead. “How about a glass of milk instead. I hear it’s good for babies.”

“Okay,” Charles says, and Logan gets up off the couch and heads into the kitchen, returning a couple of minutes later with a tall glass and a couple of chocolate chip cookies on a plate. He hands them over to Charles who inhales both like a starving man, waiting patiently for him to finish before speaking again.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

And so he does, sharing the same images with Logan that he shared with Erik earlier that afternoon, ending at the same spot with his freak out in the bathroom after Moira’s call. Logan sighs and shakes his head, and then unexpectedly reaches to take Charles’ hand.

“No wonder you look sick to your stomach, Chuck. You must be terrified.”

Charles takes a deep breath and sighs. “Yeah. I just…this is so fucking crazy, Logan. I still can’t believe it’s real.”

“So do you know what you want to do? I mean…have you decided anything yet, about keeping it?”

Charles’ heart sinks to the bottom of his gut. “Listen Logan, I’m not asking you--”

“Because whatever you do, I’ll support you,” Logan interrupts, squeezing his hand as Charles stares up at him, mouth open. “If you want to keep it or not, and whatever role you want me to play in your life and the baby’s. You just let me know. I’m here for you.”

“Really?” Charles can’t help but ask, because they really haven’t been dating all that long and even though Logan’s made it obvious he’s into Charles, they have yet to really discuss the idea of a possible future together. “This isn’t freaking you out? Not even a little?”

Logan shrugs. “I’ve been around for a long time, seen a lot of weird shit, Chuck. And this isn’t a bad thing at all, unless _you_ think it is. So…yeah, I’m pretty okay with it. More than okay actually, being a parent with you…I think I’d like it. I’d like it a lot.”

\----

Later that night, when he’s home and in bed and half asleep it suddenly comes to him with a jolt, that between the kissing and the foot rub and the homemade spaghetti dinner…

Well, he never _did_ get around to telling Logan the other, rather pertinent part of his news.

 

x

 

Charles ends up sleeping in until almost noon, and even manages to keep a slice of plain toast and glass of orange juice down, undoubtedly Mother Nature’s reward for putting him through the emotional wringer the previous day. He’s grateful to have the apartment to himself with no classes to teach and Raven out for the day, and decides to indulge with a bit of mindless channel surfing.

He cycles through the stations with no real goal in mind, ignoring everything until he stumbles across an episode of ‘Maury’. The yelling and the brawling currently unfolding on screen catches his attention, as does the supposed reason for the mayhem.

He picks up his cell immediately, and calls Moira.

“Charles, is something wrong?” Moira asks, finally picking up after the first three tries go straight to voice mail. “Did something happen with the baby?”

“No, no everything’s fine, Darling. I just…I need some information.”

He can practically hear Moira’s scowl through the phone as she answers through gritted teeth, “Charles, I have a practice to run and patients to see. If it’s not an emergency you need to call my office and schedule an appointment. Or at least wait and call me after hours alright?”

“I know, I’m sorry for being such a bother,” he says, simultaneously cranking up the charm and putting a slight wobble in his voice for her benefit. “I was just sitting here all alone in the apartment, thinking about everything that can go wrong with the baby and I just…well never mind, I’ll talk to you later alright? I’ll be fine.”

Moira sighs. “Charles. Tell me what you need. You’ve got five minutes.”

“Just some information,” he replies, trying – and failing – to sound casual and unconcerned. “Is it at all possible to get a paternity test done _without_ telling the prospective father?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Moira answers. “No.” And then, “How many prospective fathers are we talking about here?”

Charles thinks the implication might be a touch unfair, considering his Oxford days are rather far behind him. “Thank you, Darling. Just the two. Erik. And the guy I’ve been seeing, Logan.”

“And they both know that you’re pregnant?”

“Yes?”

“But they _don’t_ know there’s another candidate for ‘Daddy-to-be’?

“No?”

“Charles,” Moira admonishes, “what the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this is freaking me out!” he shouts, “I’m thinking that I never even thought about having a family, and now I’m going to have a baby! I’m not even sure that I _want_ this but the other two are apparently thrilled to pieces about it! I’m scared and I’m sick and I don’t want to deal with disappointing either of them alright? I just want to bloody know if there’s a way to find out who fathered my baby so I only have to break one heart instead of two!”

The silence is deafening, nothing but Charles’ ragged breathing as he tries to relax, slowly unclenching his fist. When Moira speaks her voice has lost its earlier edge, judgement replaced with a bit more sympathy and understanding.

“You have an ultrasound appointment in two days,” she says, “have them both come down and meet us there. I can get the cheek swabs I need to do the test.”

“Alright, that sounds good.”

“And Charles.”

“Hmm?”

“Tell them, _before_ they come in to do the test.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll tell them.”

He doesn’t.

 

x

 

In Charles’ defense he _did_ have every intention of confessing before the scheduled appointment with Moira.

He just couldn’t decide _who_ to tell, waffling between one, then the other, then both (and also running back to England came up as a viable alternative). It took him the rest of the day and the better part of the next to finally settle on who to tell, which gave him exactly zero time to deliver the news about the paternity test and the reason behind the request before the appointment.

 _He can do this_ , he thinks, as he grabs his keys and wallet, and heads out to catch a cab to Moira’s office. _Everything will be fine._

_\-----_

Everything, as it turns out, does not go fine at all.

\-----

Charles arrives five minutes early and greets the receptionist with a warm hello, shrugging his jacket off as he makes his way to a seat in the half-empty waiting room. He runs through the words of his planned speech over and over in his head, trying to anticipate the various reactions he might get from his belated confession. He’s so engrossed in this own thoughts that he doesn’t register the looming presence until it’s almost directly in front of him, and almost jumps out of his seat when a warm hand reaches to grip his shoulder and a familiar voice gently calls out to him.

“Charles.”

“Erik!” he says, the name coming out of his mouth pitched a little too high and definitely too loudly. “What are you doing here?”

“I called Raven looking for you since you haven’t been returning my calls, and she said that you had a doctor’s appointment today, so I came to give you some moral support.” The wide smile on Erik’s face starts to slowly melt away, his forehead knitting in concern as Charles just stares at him with growing horror.

“You didn’t have to take time off work to do this,” Charles manages, trying – and failing – to remain calm as Erik’s lips thin into a muddled frown. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, I do! But I’m sure you’re very busy and it’s going to be really quick check-up today so I can just call you afterwards and give you an update okay?”

“Charles, is something wrong? Why don’t you want me--”

“Charles? Is everything alright?”

Of course this would be the exact moment that Logan shows up, because Charles Xavier is living the life of a rom com heroine, with the same shitty luck and bad, improbably ridiculous timing.  And of course Erik immediately bristles and moves to position himself beside Charles like the possessive bastard he is, giving Logan very clear signals of _back off_ and _who the fuck are you_?

Luckily, Logan is not so easily scared off, holding his own as he leans down to greet Charles with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Chuck. I didn’t know we were meeting anyone else today. This the ex you told me about?”

Charles rubs his face with both hands and sighs. “Logan, this is Erik Lehnsherr, my ex. Erik, this is Logan Howlett, the man I’m currently dating.”

There is a very long, very _tense_ silence, and Charles pointedly does not look at either man’s face as he braces himself for their reactions. He is certain that Erik and Logan are both rapidly putting the pieces together, smart as they are, and can already feel the metal of his chair vibrating, along with the very loud demand for _a fucking explanation now Charles_ that is broadcasting rather loudly from Erik and a _really this guy?_ from a bewildered Logan.  

Luckily, Moira wanders out into the waiting area before Erik can explode, giving all three of them a bright smile as she grabs Charles’ file from the receptionist’s desk. “I’m glad you finally told them, Charles,” she says, and oh doesn’t _that_ lovely spike of anger feel like he’s being stabbed in the brain. “Why don’t you come in and let’s take a look at the baby.”

\-----

Erik and Logan are both quietly subdued as Charles hops onto the examination table, taking position on either side of him as Moira squeezes his hand. Whether they’ve each come to the decision on their own, or were ‘encouraged’ by the warning glare they received from Moira, Charles doesn’t know; he only knows that they’re both putting their questions and grievances on hold, unwilling to get kicked out and miss their first glimpse of the baby. It’s not exactly a comfortable silence in the tiny room, but at least the risk of violence has dissipated as Moira walks them through the process.

“I need you to unbutton your pants, Charles, and then I’m going to spread this clear gel on your pelvic region over your womb, and use this wand to take images of the baby alright? You shouldn’t feel any discomfort, except the gel might be a little cold.”

He fumbles a little with the button on his pants, his hands shaking as a rush of anxiety hits him, unabated now that he isn’t completely distracted over his ‘who’s the daddy’ predicament. An unexpected squeeze on his shoulder from Erik manages to ground him, easing his nerves, as does the light touch of Logan’s hand on his elbow.

Charles takes a deep breath, pushing his pants and boxers low on his hips and nods his head. “Alright. I’m ready.”

The next ten, maybe fifteen minutes are spent in near excruciating silence, with Moira squeezing gel on Charles’ skin and then moving the wand over his pelvis, stopping occasionally to tap a few buttons on the keyboard as they all wait with bated breath. Finally, after what feels like an interminable age, she turns to them and smiles, and tilts the monitor around so all three of them can see the screen clearly.

Everything is hazy and grey, with large black shadows and white spots that make it somewhat difficult to make out any clear details. But the contour of Charles’ womb is unmistakeable, as is the shape of what is clearly a baby; or rather, the shapes of two babies laying side by side.

Two heads.

Two bodies.

_Two babies._

“There,” she says, pointing to the silhouettes on the screen with a pleased grin. “Everything looks wonderful, Charles. Congratulations. You’re having twins.”

A warm rush of excitement washes over him, and he doesn’t have to look to know that both Logan and Erik are ecstatic at the latest development, the burst of _can’tbelieveittwins_ and _Mamawillbesohappy_ and _boysorgirlsoroneeach_ and _thankgoddidn’tmissthis_ almost overwhelming as he continues to stare numbly at the screen.

“Twins,” he breathes and absolutely does not freak out about the fact that he is going from zero babies in his life to having two at once. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“Hey, Charles, it’s alright, relax. Take a deep breath,” Logan murmurs, rubbing his hand slowly up and down his back. “Whatever happens, I’m with you remember? You don’t have to do this alone.”

And oh that is apparently the wrong thing to say because Erik’s calm demeanor shatters like so much glass, and he shoves Logan’s hand off Charles with a snarl. “You don’t even know if the babies are _yours_ , new guy _._ Charles could be carrying _my_ twins. And _I’m_ going to be one taking care of them. So you can take your cheap platitudes and shove them—”

“Listen, Bub, I’ve had just about enough of your bull--”

“Okay, let’s everybody calm down!” Moira shouts, and Erik and Logan both bristle, raring as they are for a fight. “You are not going to do this in my office, do you hear me? And you better think long and hard about whether or not you can act like adults here, because stress is not good for my patient and it is definitely not good for the babies.”

“Please,” Charles adds, because he might as well get all the unpleasantness out of the way now, so he can go home and lock the door to his bedroom and never come out. “Can we just do the paternity test now? Get it over with?”

“Yes of course,” Moira replies, calm and soothing. “I’m just going to need to take a blood sample from you, Charles, and a cheek swab from Erik and Logan. I’ll see what I can do to put a rush on it but it’ll still take a few days to get the results.”

“And then we’ll know for sure, yes? Which one of them is the babies’ other father.”

He does not like the thoughtful look that appears on Moira’s face then, the ‘I don’t think you’re going to like this’ expression she uses whenever she has to deliver bad news. It does absolutely nothing to ease the anxiety sitting like a lead weight in his gut.

“Well…yes,” Moira hedges, and oh he does not like how that sounds _at all_. “Normally, with one baby the test will reveal definitively which one of you is the father. And more than likely the test will come back and it’ll tell us if Erik or Mr. Howlett here fathered the twins. There is however, a small chance; a very, _very_ tiny one, since you’re carrying two babies…”

“Moira,” Charles snaps, “please, just spit it out.”

“Well they might both be the father,” she finishes with a grimace.

“ _What_?” That was Erik, and probably Logan too. Definitely Charles.

“Sometimes, very rarely as I’ve said, sperm from two men can fertilize two ova within the same cycle, resulting in fraternal twins. It’s known as ‘superfecundation’, and given what I know about the circumstances around conception, it _is_ possible. Not _probable_ , but yes, possible.”

Charles’ future flashes before his eyes, an entire pregnancy – and years beyond – of Erik and Logan sniping at one another, fighting over time with the babies and disrupting Charles’ perfectly orderly life of teaching, sex, drinking, sex, and sleeping in.

“Oh my god,” he says again, and then promptly throws up all over Moira’s shoes.

\-----

She sends them all home after the tests are finished (and she’s changed into a new pair of shoes), promising to call as soon as the results come in. Charles absolutely refuses both Erik and Logan’s offers to escort him home, and then spends the next three days ignoring their texts and calls, burrowing under a mountain of blankets with Raven when he doesn’t have to go to class. It’s not the most mature reaction to what is admittedly a rather small (tiny, _miniscule_ ) chance that the babies will have two different fathers, but that, along with all the other changes happening to his body are just too much for him to handle at once.

“If it happens at least you’ll have an extra set of hands for diaper duty,” Raven says with a grin, as Charles plows through an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies straight out of the oven. “And the babies get extra presents for birthdays and holidays! That’ll make them happy, right?”

Charles shoves her off the couch, and doesn’t feel even the tiniest bit sorry as she laughs herself silly on the way down.

 

x

 

“Congratulations,” Moira says, a wry grin on the curve of her lips as she unseals the envelope and quickly scans the results. Charles is on the edge of his seat, Erik and Logan on either side of him again in Moira’s office. “All three of you are the proud parents of a set of healthy, fraternal twins.”

Relief not his own fills the room at her words, because apparently, both Logan and Erik had hoped to be the babies’ father, and being a parent to one was better than none at all. But then the bickering immediately starts up as they talk over each other, clamoring for Charles’ attention.

“I think we should get married,” Erik states, in that tone of voice he uses in the courtroom, like Charles is a witness he’s trying to crack. “You can move in with me, and Mama will be able to help us with the babies.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Logan interrupts, before Charles has the chance to tell Erik that he’s completely off his rocker – they’re not even together any more, they’re definitely _not_ getting married just for the babies. “You’re his ex! He’s dating me now! If he’s marrying anybody he’s going to marry _me_!”

“He barely knows you! You’ve been together what? Three months? We were together for three years!”

“But you’re not together _now_ are you? If you couldn’t work it out with just the two of you, what makes you think you can do it with four?”

Moira, bless her heart, must see something on Charles’ face because she’s up and around her desk in a flash, shoving Erik out of the way and kneeling in front of Charles with a wastepaper basket in hand. “It’s alright, Charles. Everything’s going to be alright; just let it out.”

At least this time, he manages to keep most of the vomit off Moira’s lovely shoes.


	2. First Day of School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of Grade One for the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Roz, who wanted the twins and first day at School! Don't worry we aren't skipping ahead permanently; there are still WAY too many fun things to write with reluctantly pregnant Charles and bickering paramours Erik and Logan!

As soon as he opens the bedroom door, he can hear the clamor of voices drifting up from the kitchen.

“Papa Erik, can you braid my hair please?”

“Of course I can, _Schatzi_ \--”

“No! Papa needs to help me find my Captain America t-shirt!”

“Get _my_ Papa to help you! Papa Erik’s the only one who can do a French braid!”

“Girls, please can you keep it down--”

“But Papa Logan’s busy making pancakes!”

“Then look for it yourself, _Lorn_ a!”

“I did! If I could find it I wouldn’t ask for help, _Laur_ a!”

For a split second – just the tiniest, miniscule _, infinitesimal_ moment in time – Charles allows himself to indulge in the various scenarios that flit invitingly through his head.

Close the door and go back to bed. Let Erik and Logan deal with the twins and take them to their first day of Grade One.

Use his telepathy to mask his escape; they wouldn’t even know he was gone until Charles was half way to the university.

Find a time machine and go back in time, and NOT GET KNOCKED UP WITH TWINS DUE TO AN UNKNOWN SECONDARY MUTATION.

“I’m telling Daddy! _Daddy_!” Laura hollers up the stairs, loud enough to pierce his eardrums.

“ _Daddddddyyyyyyyy_!” Lorna howls immediately after, and a few of his ‘pre-morning coffee’ brain cells actually shrivel up and die.

Charles shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his noise, closing the bedroom door softly behind him with a click. “’Let’s have sex, Charles,’” he mutters. “‘It’ll be fun, Charles.’ ‘Feels so good, Charles.’ Fuckers.”

He takes a deep breath and braces himself for the onslaught, only to be saved by the timely interruption of a knock on the front door, the sound enough to distract the girls from their impending ambush.

“Omi—”

“Omi!”  

“—Omi’s here!

By the time Charles makes his way down the stairs and into the front hallway, Edie is already inside, being bowled over by the twin forces of nature that are his beautiful six year olds. They are each talking a mile a minute, simultaneously trying to compete for Edie’s attention, and greeting Charles with a  synchronized ‘good morning, Daddy!’. Edie just smiles indulgently as Charles leans over to kiss her hello, and then follows by planting wet sloppy kisses on the squealing girls.

“Thanks again for coming, and for helping us with afterschool pickups. You truly are a gem, Edie,” Charles says, grinning shamelessly when she pats him adoringly on the cheek. They really are rather lucky to have Edie in their lives; she’s been nothing but a calm and steady presence for all of them since they found out about the babies, and a wellspring of information on everything from three a.m. feedings to teething pains, to diaper rashes and toddler tantrums.

And as eager as Erik and Logan had been as fathers-to-be – and Charles too when the idea finally stopped making him vomit – well, between the _three_ of them they still knew absolutely nothing - useful or otherwise about raising kids.

“No need to smooth talk me, my darling,” Edie replies, letting the girls tug her down the hall impatiently and into the kitchen, with Charles chuckling as he follows dutifully behind. “Or bat your eyelashes at me. I’m much too old to fall for those pretty blue eyes.”

“Is he trying one of his lines on you, Mama?” Erik pipes up, giving Edie a quick kiss before grabbing a giggling Laura and tucking her under one arm. He sits her down at the kitchen island and starts brushing her long, dark brown tresses, expression pinched and focused as he braids bright pink ribbons into her hair. “All these years and they’re still terrible.”

“Shut up, Erik.”

“Daddy said a bad word!” Lorna yells, and Charles claps a hand over his mouth, widening his eyes in exaggeration to make her laugh. “You have to put money in the swear jar!”

“We’ll have enough in the swear jar for a trip to Disney soon,” Logan snarks, giving Edie a wide grin as he dishes a pancake straight from the grill pan onto Lorna’s plate. “Nice to see you, Edie. You want some pancakes? I got real maple syrup. The good stuff, none of that fake c-r-a-p.”

“Papa, that doesn’t work anymore. We _know_ when you’re spelling bad words,” Laura chastises, before abruptly switching gears. “Are we really going to Disney? Can we Papa? Can we pleeeease?”

“Ask your Daddy. He calls the shots around here.”

Charles snorts. “Very helpful, Logan.”

“I’m going to have to say no to the pancakes, Logan dear, as delicious as they are; I’ve already had breakfast,” Edie continues, navigating expertly around the chaos, verbal and otherwise. “I won’t say no to a cup of your special blend though.”

“You got it, doll.”

It is endlessly amusing, Charles finds, to watch Edie interact with Logan under Erik’s baleful eye. Though she treats Charles as one of her own brood, _Logan_ is another matter entirely. He learned early on that Edie had an eye for the ruggedly handsome, muscly, leather jacket wearing type, and that Logan fit the mold exquisitely. The fact that she flirts (rather mildly if you ask Charles, or inappropriately over the top according to Erik) while appreciating Logan’s _assets_ is downright hilarious, something Logan actively encourages at every turn just to make Erik seethe.

“Daddy, I can’t find my Captain America t-shirt,” Lorna whines, in between shoveling pieces of pancake into her mouth as Edie attempts to pick the knots out of her tangle of unruly, green hair. “I looked _everywhere_.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Yes, I heard you all the way upstairs. You do remember that I’m a telepath right? You could ask without all the screaming, Lorna.”  
  
“I _wasn’t_ —”

“It’s in the laundry room, in the dryer. I put it in last night to get the jam stain out remember? So you could wear it today?”

Lorna’s entire face lights up as she races out of the room, the hair brush still attached to her head. Edie chuckles as Charles sighs, and then Laura is coughing to demand everyone’s attention, doing a pirouette in the middle of the room to show off her perfect braid and matching pink dress.

“How do I look?” she asks, with the air of someone who already knows the answer.

“Gorgeous,” Erik answers.

“Like a princess,” Logan adds.

“Pink,” Charles teases, just to see the righteous indignation flash across his daughter’s face. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Laura was Erik’s child and not Logan’s, sharing a near identical scowl when expressing their displeasure. “Perfection. You and your sister will the prettiest kids in Grade One.”

“I don’t want to be pretty! I want to be awesome!” Lorna shouts, careening back into the room wearing the missing t-shirt and a pair of comfy, if slightly worn jeans. She hands the brush back to Edie and lets her Omi wrestle her hair into a ponytail, following it promptly with a matching Captain America baseball cap. “We shouldn’t care how a person looks. Right?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Logan agrees, wiping his hands on his old jeans before giving Lorna an enthusiastic high-five.

“But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice either. Right?” Laura asks, smiling up at an impeccably dressed Erik, ready for court in his dark blue, Tom Ford suit and tie combo.

“Nothing at all.”

“Right, my darlings,” Charles interjects, before he can get emotional (more emotional) about his babies all grown up and starting grade school, ignoring the pang in his gut at how quickly the last few years have flown by. “You are both gorgeous _and_ awesome. Now, are we ready to go? Ready to take over the world?”    

  
x

  
They pile into the minivan (because Charles owns a _minivan_ now, he still can’t believe this is his life) and make their way to the twins’ new school. Erik had initially been sceptical about Frost Academy’s integrated mutant-human student body, though the balanced curriculum between learning and practical training eventually won him over. The staff too was an added bonus; comprised almost entirely of mutants with both visible and invisible mutations. And Charles himself made fast friends with the school principal, Emma Frost, a fellow telepath with a sharp wit and a talent for honing young and impressionable minds.

Logan didn’t care _where_ the kids went to school, as long as he got to be in charge of their survival training.

They arrive at the school a bit early, to introduce themselves and to speak with the girls’ new teacher, a Ms. Ororo Munroe according to the welcome email. The van has barely come to a full stop before Lorna is unbuckling her seatbelt and flinging the door open, yelling ‘come on, come on’ as the others follow at a more sedate pace. There are a few sets of parents with their kids milling about the grounds already, but the bulk of the back-to-school crowd have yet to make an appearance, which will give them an opportunity for a more leisurely drop-off.

Finding Ms. Munroe’s classroom is relatively easy, with Lorna leading the way while Laura holds onto Charles’ hand, directing them all down various hallways with the help of some older student volunteers. They find Ms. Munroe sporting a name tag and a bright smile standing just outside her classroom door, and the girls immediately flock to her with barely supressed glee.

“Hi, I’m Lorna Xavier-Lehnsherr,” Lorna says, giving Ms. Munroe an enthusiastic high five.

“And I’m Laura Xavier-Howlett. Lorna and I are twins,” Laura greets, with an excited handshake.

“Hello Lorna. Laura,” Ms. Munroe replies, gifting the girls with a warm smile before turning to acknowledge the rest of their motley group. “I’m Ororo Munroe. And you must be Mr. Xavier,” she continues, her turn to offer a hand for Charles to shake. “Welcome, all of you, to Frost Academy.”

Charles can only assume that Principal Frost explained their rather unique ‘circumstances’ in advance of this meeting, since Ms. Munroe barely batted an eyelash at the girls’ introduction. It’s not that Charles is embarrassed about his girls or their parentage – they’ve had a long time to get over the awkwardness after all – but it’s always a chore to explain the ‘situation’ as it were, and there’s never a guarantee how well or poorly the information is received.

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he returns, and already, Charles finds that he likes Ms. Munroe quite a lot. She has a keen mind and what seems to be a natural affinity for children, and a rather marvellous control over the elements that he hopes to see firsthand in the future. “This is Logan Howlett, Laura’s Dad, and Erik Lehnsherr, Lorna’s Dad. And this is Edie, Erik’s mom. We thought we should come and introduce ourselves to you, since we’ll all be taking turns with drop-offs and pick-ups.”

“Nice to meet you,” Erik says, mind lighting up with approval as Charles shares his first impressions with the other adults. Logan just nods while Edie acknowledges Ms. Munroe with a smile, her arms around the girls as they peer up at the grown-ups.

“Charles is our Daddy too,” Lorna interjects, because of course she feels the need to explain, having been asked about _her three fathers_ many, _many_ times before. “His secondary mutation is having babies. He gave birth to me and Laura.”

“Lorna, darling, I don’t think--” he tries to interrupt, Logan chuckling in the background and being absolutely no help at all.

“Daddy had sex with my Papa and also Papa Erik around the same time and so that’s why Lorna and I have different Papas,” Laura continues. “It’s called ‘superfecundation’. Aunt Moira told us. She’s a doctor.”

“Laura, that’s really too much information—”

“Daddy’s not married though, to either of our Papas—”

“They asked but he said no--”

“They didn’t ask at the same time though--”

“I didn’t say it was the same time!”

“Alright! Anyway, Daddy says marriage is for people who don’t get knocked up with twins by two different guys so—”

“Okay I think that’s enough sharing for the first day don’t you think?” Charles interrupts (no he absolutely does _not_ shout it), before he bursts a blood vessel right in front of his daughters’ new teacher. 

Ms. Munroe takes pity on him, her thoughts tinged with amused delight for the girls and sympathy for an exasperated Charles. “Girls, would you like to show your grandmother your new classroom? You’re here early so you get first pick of the desks.”

“Yay!”

“Omi, let’s go!”

Edie is barely suppressing a smile as she follows the girls inside, rubbing Charles’ back soothingly as she passes by. Logan is still chuckling away, bastard that he is, while Erik’s lip is curled in an amused grin, his thoughts suffused with warmth for the girls and teasing affection for Charles. At least neither of them are cracking jokes about the many marriage proposals they’ve each offered over the years, and how Charles always answers the same way, with an emphatic no and occasionally with a book thrown at their heads.

“They’re lovely,” Ms. Munroe offers, watching the girls drag their Omi around the classroom, pointing at various posters and pictures on the walls. “So bright and spirited. I look forward to teaching them and working with them on their powers.”

“Oh yeah they’re smart,” Logan answers, slinging a companionable arm around Charles’ shoulder, bumping Erik out of his way with an elbow. Erik ignores him. “Smart enough to take over your classroom, if you let ‘em.”

“And that’s before they use their powers,” Erik adds, his obvious pride over their abilities undermining any sincerity he might have intended with the warning.

Ms. Munroe chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind. I have a feeling I’ll be in for an interesting year.”

Charles groans. “Oh, Ms. Munroe, you have no idea.”


	3. Shit, The Babies Are Coming!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The babies arrive early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not obvious; I'm not writing this in any kind of chronological order :D. Also, I've had 2 babies but not via c-section...so all the medical stuff here is pulled partly from online research, and partly from my own experiences. Probably best to assume there are inaccuracies lol.

2:31.

It’s exactly 2:31 in the morning according to Charles’ cell, as he lays on his comfortable king-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling. There’s something wet and clammy (good god, he hopes it’s amniotic fluid and not anything _else)_ soaking into his pajama bottoms and into the mattress. And oh yes, there it is – a twinge in his lower abdomen – somewhere in that nebulous threshold between too much Indian food and a stab in the gut.

Fuckity fuck.

He’s in labor.

“Raven,” he calls softly, too softly, his throat closing up as a swell of panic washes over him. “Raven,” he shouts, louder this time as he tries to push himself up, struggling to kick away the blankets tangled around his feet. And then - _Raven, shit, the babies are coming!_

His door slams open just a few seconds later, as Raven comes flying into his bedroom, breathless and eyes wild. “Charles, what’s wrong?”  
  
He grimaces. “My water broke. The babies are coming now.”

“What? No! You’re not due for another two weeks! And you’re not scheduled for your C-Section until next Wednesday!”

“Well tell that to _them_!” Charles snaps, as Raven grabs him by the arm and hauls him off the bed, bracing him by the shoulders so he doesn’t topple over. “It’s not like I have any control over it. They obviously listen to what _I_ want about as well as the two idiots that made them.”

“Okay, okay let’s not panic,” Raven answers, rubbing his arms soothingly as she takes a look around the room. “Let’s get you dressed and then we can-- What the hell is that all over the bed?”

“I told you my water broke,” Charles says, trying – and failing – to keep his voice calm and even. He waddles over to the dresser and starts rummaging for a pair of clean pants and underwear, slamming the drawer shut hard enough to make the entire thing shudder.

“How did it—I mean, I thought you said you didn’t have a…you know, lady part.”

“I _know_ ,” Charles shouts, and oh ow, now it’s really starting to _hurt_. “No vagina, no natural birth. That’s why we have to do a C-Section to get them out! I don’t even _want_ to think about how all that fluid got out of me! Ugh.”

Raven, bless her, doesn’t even flinch at the way he’s snarling like a bear, and just gently but firmly guides him into the en-suite bathroom. “Alright. You get changed and I’ll call Moira and get us a cab to the hospital. Your bag is in the hallway closet, ready to go. Do you want me to call Erik and Logan?”

Charles waves her away with a tired sigh. “No, that’s fine. I’ll call them, thanks.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand before stepping out of the room, leaving Charles alone to struggle out of his dirty clothes into his clean ones. It takes twice as long as usual to manoeuvre with his giant belly constantly in the way, and by the time he’s ready to go he’s had the pleasure of yet another contraction.

He grabs his phone and dials Erik's number, and is maybe just a tiny bit appeased when a groggy sounding Erik picks up immediately and asks, “Charles? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m in labor.”

“What?” Erik barks, and Charles can hear the man springing out of bed and scrambling around for his clothes, cursing under his breath when he accidentally stubs his toe. “Wait there, I’m coming to get you.”

“No, just meet me at the hospital. Raven’s calling Moira now and then we’re going to take a cab.”

“Charles, just let me--”

“I’ll see you there, bye.”

He hangs up and pushes the number for Logan this time, getting him on the second ring, the man sounding wide awake when he picks up.

“Chuck? What’s going on? Is it time?”

“Yes, Raven and I are on our way to the hospital. Meet us there?”

“You got it. Be careful, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

Charles takes a deep breath and exhales. “Yeah.”

“You can do this. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Raven is standing in the doorway watching him when he hangs up, with her purse in one hand and his bag in the other. She smiles and drags him into a tight hug, before pulling away to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Ready to go? And get those babies out of you?” she asks with the tiniest smirk.

Charles squeezes her hand and groans. “Oh fuck, _yes_.”

\-----

By the time the cab pulls in front of the hospital the contractions are hitting every five minutes, painful enough to make Charles gasp with every slow build and fade. It’s getting increasingly difficult to talk or even move; he wants to curl into a ball and be left alone as much as he wants someone to please get those damn babies out of him now.

“Charles, can you shield yourself? Maybe ease some of the pain?” Raven asks as she shoves some money at the driver, and then flings herself out of the cab to circle around and open the door for Charles.

“Can’t,” Charles pants through gritted teeth, as another contraction starts ramping in intensity. “Have hard time shielding…all of you…from…contractions. Ugh! Too hard…do both.”

“Okay.”

He closes his eyes when the pain hits, curling his head and arms around his belly as he tries to remember how to breathe. There is no way he’s going to make the twenty steps it takes to get from the curb to the reception desk without screaming bloody murder, let alone up three floors to the maternity ward, elevator or no.

And then Logan is suddenly standing next to him, seemingly out of nowhere, and rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back as the last of the contraction fades away. “Hey there. Do you think you can walk if we help you? Or do you want me to carry you?”

 _Please, I can’t walk…hurts so much_ , he sends and Logan winces in sympathy, before reaching carefully into the back seat and lifting Charles up and into his arms. He groans, and flings his arms around Logan’s neck, and then the three of them are making their way through the sliding doors and into the lobby, where Erik is pushing a wheelchair with his powers and barking at the receptionist.

“—you mean she’s busy delivering another baby? Charles is in labor! You tell her she needs to get her ass down here right now or so help me, I’m going to—”

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles says, and Erik is at his side in a flash, awkwardly thunderous as Logan eases him gently into the wheelchair. “Darling, please stop yelling at the staff.”

“Moira knows about Charles,” Raven interjects, “I spoke with her before we left. She’s going to get a resident to help deliver the other baby while they prep Charles for surgery.”

“Surgery? What surg--”

“Emergency c-section,” Charles replies, “still no vagina. Still the only way to get them out.”

“Are there increased risks?” Logan asks, taking one of Charles’ hands and curling their fingers together, which means Erik immediately doing the same with the other. “I mean, you seem to be pretty far along in labor.”

Charles shakes his head tiredly. “I have no idea. I’m sure Moira will tell us when we see her.”

“Mr. Xavier?”

He turns to see the receptionist coming around the desk with a clip board in hand, looking a little sheepish at having to interrupt their conversation. “Dr. MacTaggert told the staff about your…circumstances—”

Erik snorts. “Circumstances, really? He’s pregnant, because he has a secondary mutation. You can say it; it’s not contagious.”

Raven sighs. “Erik, now is _really_ not the time…”

“Give it a rest, Lehnsherr.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” the receptionist – ‘Missy’ apparently, based on her name tag and the unflattering thoughts she has about Erik gleaned from her mind – continues, “we’re going to need someone to fill out the paperwork while the rest of you go up to the third floor. Which one of you is the other father?”

“I am,” Logan and Erik answer simultaneously, and then glare at each other as Missy looks back and forth confusedly between the two men. Charles can feel the beginnings of another contraction threatening to hit, and absolutely does not have the patience or the inclination to put up with their ridiculous posturing.

“Listen to me,” he snarls, yanking them both down so they’re bent over awkwardly at eye level with Charles. “There will be none of that bullshit today, do you hear me? Or I swear to you, I will fry your brains and turn you both into slobbering idiots. Now _somebody_ fill out those fucking forms so I can get upstairs and get some goddamned drugs!”

\-----

Thankfully, Raven offers to stay behind and do the necessary paperwork, while Logan and Erik escort Charles down the corridor to the elevator and then up to the maternity ward. Moira comes around the corner just as they arrive at the nurses’ station, and Charles doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see another human being in his entire life.

“Moira,” he pants through gritted teeth, “please tell me you’re going to get them out of me _right now_.”

“As soon as I can, Charles, I promise,” she replies, turning to lead them down a side corridor at a brisk pace. “Let’s get you to your room and changed into a hospital gown. Then we’ll get you prepped for the procedure.”

“I don’t understand why he’s in labor,” Erik says rather tersely, as Moira directs them into a private room where a nurse is already waiting. “He doesn’t have a way for the babies to come out naturally…Why is he having contractions?”

“Hold that thought,” Moira answers, and then turns to introduce Charles to the man in scrubs standing patiently by the bed. “Charles, this is Darwin. He’s going to help you into a hospital gown and get you settled in. I’ll pull the curtain around to give you some privacy, but we’ll stay in the room with you, alright?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” Charles snaps, because he’s fairly certain he would say yes to just about anything right now, including giving her one of the babies if she just promises to MAKE IT STOP.

He lets Darwin – who is quick and efficient, and doing most of the work – help him strip out of his clothes and into a gown, while Moira answers Erik’s previous question with practiced patience.

“Charles has a fully formed uterus and cervix but only a partial birth canal, so he can’t actually deliver the babies the way a woman could through her vagina—”

“Because he doesn’t have one,” Logan adds.

“Exactly. But his body is still preparing itself to give birth—”

“Even if there’s nowhere for the babies to go—”

“ _Because I don’t have a vagina_!” Charles yells, because _now_ is hardly the time to be talking about body parts he doesn’t have. “Ask something useful! Like where are the drugs? And how fast can you get them out of me?”

“Fast,” Moira replies, sliding the curtain to the side and taking Charles’ wrist to check his pulse. “Once we start, it’ll be ten minutes to get the babies out and about thirty to stitch you back up.”

“Do it. Do it _now,_ ” he insists, as another contraction knocks the wind out of him, making his insides writhe and twist. When Logan reaches to take his hand again, Charles shoves him away, glaring at Erik pre-emptively in case he gets the same bright idea. He doesn’t want _anyone_ touching him right now, when all he wants to do is crawl out of his own skin; when he’s barely holding it together, trying not to lash out in rage and annoyance at everyone around him.

“Just one more thing,” Moira adds gently, as Charles grinds his teeth, panting through the excruciating pain. “We talked about giving you an epidural for the procedure, so you could be awake when the twins are born. But there’s also the option of knocking you out completely. With the strain on your telepathy and the unexpected labor pain, and the fact that this is an irregular pregnancy it might not be a bad idea.”

“Charles, you said you really wanted to be awake when the babies came, remember?” Logan says.

Erik frowns. “And what strain in telepathy? I haven’t noticed anything differ—oh, oh, oh, ow, ow, ow, owwwwwww!”

“What the fuck? Holy fuck, owww!”

Charles absolutely does not smile as Logan’s face immediately goes stark white, and Erik has to prop himself against the wall to keep from collapsing onto the ground. “The strain of not projecting how _this_ feels, you bastards,” he growls. “Now shut up and stop telling me what I want! Moira, I don’t want to wake up until both those babies are out of my body, do you understand me?”

“Absolutely, Charles,” Moira answers, nodding at Darwin who starts prepping his bed for transport to the operating room. “You’re the boss.

“And I’m afraid that means you two can’t be there for the procedure,” she continues, raising her hand to ward off the objections already forming on Erik and Logan’s lips. “I’m sorry, but we’ll be administering general anesthesia and we can’t have non-medical personnel in the room. I promise, we’ll come and get you as soon as we can.”

“I don’t like this,” Erik argues, “what if something happens to Charles--”

“If something _does_ happen, Moira will take care of it,” Charles answers, trying to be reassuring, knowing how hard it is for Erik to let go and trust someone else to take care of him and the babies. “She’ll make sure we’re alright.”

Logan, looking worried but resigned, leans down to press a gentle and earnest kiss on Charles’ forehead. “You go get ‘em, Chuck. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Charles smiles, though it probably looks closer to a pained grimace. “Thanks, Logan.”

Erik’s face is still thunderous as he steps close, and Charles is relieved when he doesn’t press the issue, only reaching to squeeze and then kiss the back of Charles’ hand. “I’m so proud of you,” Erik says, his voice soft and his face full of barely restrained emotion. “We’ll be waiting for you, and the babies.”

Something in Erik’s expression makes Charles’ heart clench, and suddenly, the idea of not having Erik and Logan in the room with him is making it difficult to breathe. “I’m so scared,” Charles blurts out, “I can’t do this. I’m a man, my body isn’t made for this! The babies, what if something happens to them? Oh god, why did I think this was a good idea? I can’t--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Logan says, taking Charles’ other hand and brushing the matted hair from his temple. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, or the babies. Moira won’t let that happen.”

“You can do this,” Erik adds, as Charles clutches at them both, squeezing hard as another contraction hits like a long, painful stab in the gut. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

“You’ll be fine,” Moira promises, as she and Darwin guide the two men away from Charles’ bed, patting his leg reassuringly as they start wheeling him out of the room. “They can wait here, and then I’ll bring them to see you.”

The next few minutes are a blur of noise and activity, as Charles is transported down the corridor, flanked on either side by Moira and Darwin. In the operating room he’s surrounded by more nurses in scrubs, who move quickly to insert a catheter for his bladder, an IV drip in his arm, and an oxygen mask on his face.

“You’re doing great,” a voice says – Moira, reappearing at this side in scrubs with a mask over her face. “Ready to meet the twins?”

Charles nods, and closes his eyes.

\-----

It feels like only a few short minutes have passed when he opens his eyes, head groggy and throat dry as he slowly takes in his surroundings. He’s no longer in the operating room, though he’s still in his bed and attached to an IV, his whole body sore and achy. Turning his head to look around proves to be a mistake, making his head spin and Charles groan in discomfort. He hopes that Moira is finished doing whatever it is she needs to do to deliver the babies, because he is _really_ tired of feeling like death warmed over.

Yes, the babies…

…where are the babies?

“Mr. Xavier? Charles? How’re you feeling?” a voice asks, and then a friendly face comes into view above his bed; Darwin, the lovely nurse who helped him into his hospital gown.

“Like I got hit by a truck.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on you, give you something for the pain.”

Charles takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Thank you. Where’s Moira? Are the babies okay?”

“They’re just fine,” Moira replies, coming into the room and stepping into Charles’ line of sight, gifting him with a brilliant smile. “Everything went beautifully and they’re both in perfect health. You did good, Xavier.”

Relief surges through him at her words, and Charles squeezes her fingers when she takes his hand. “Thank you, for taking care of us. Where are they? Can I see them now?”

“Of course,” Moira answers, as his bed is slowly raised into a sitting position, with Darwin adjusting the pillows around his body for better support. She checks his vitals as Darwin offers him some water, and pats his shoulder as Charles sighs with relief. “They’re on the way.”

There’s a knock only a couple of minutes later, and then the door swings open to reveal first Logan and then Erik, each with a tiny bundle cradled carefully in their arms. Up until now the idea that he would soon become a parent to newborns seemed rather abstract, even as his pregnancy turned the controlled chaos of his life upside down. But here, with the evidence that he had in fact carried _two actual beings_ in his body for nine months, everything is suddenly, perfectly, _terrifyingly_ real.  

“Hey, how ya feeling?” Logan asks, as he moves to flank Charles on the left, with Erik settling on his right. The babies look _tiny_ and hopelessly fragile, and Charles doesn’t know how he’s supposed to take care of them, when he’s already afraid of inadvertently hurting them, or dropping them on their heads.

“Sore, but alright. Still a little out of it, to be honest.”

“Just take it easy, Charles,” Erik replies, “we’ve got everything under control.”

They each lean over and kiss him, just a light brush against each cheek as Charles looks back and forth dazedly between the babies. The one in Erik’s arms has very little hair, just a layer of light brown peach fuzz, while the one in Logan’s arms already has a mop of bright green curls covering the top of its head.

They’re perfect and beautiful, Charles thinks _,_ and also…maybe look just a tiny bit like a couple of shriveled old men?

He brushes that idle thought away and asks, “Which one came out first? Are they…did we have boys or girls? Or one of each?”

Logan smiles ecstatically, and gently transfers the baby he’s holding into Charles’ arms. “This one, by three minutes Moira said.”

“Girls,” Erik adds with a wide, excited grin, “we have two beautiful daughters.”

He kisses her, the sweet perfect baby in his arms, marvelling at the splendid, vibrant green and the intoxicating scent coming from her petal soft skin. With a sigh he hands her back to Logan carefully, and reaches to take his younger daughter from Erik’s arms.

“Is this one…” _yours_ , he wants to ask, loathe as he is to spoil the quiet peace between his new found family. But the past six months have all been leading to this moment, and Charles knows that Erik and Logan have been waiting patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) to know who fathered which of the twins.

“We haven’t done the tests yet, but we can do them now. Anytime you’re ready,” Moira offers.

He nuzzles the baby close and kisses her cheek, watching her eyelids flutter open, revealing a stunning pair of pale blue eyes. Charles had been nervous for weeks before he was due, unsure if he would connect with the twins emotionally; wondering if he would turn out to be as cold and distant as his own mother had been. But now that they’re here and real, safe and in his arms…

…he knows he’ll never love anything in his life as much as he loves his daughters.

“Actually, Logan and I have been talking…” Erik starts, glancing between Charles and Moira before settling on Logan. “We’ve decided not to get a DNA test done for the twins.”

“Thing is,” Logan continues, “we love them both already. And nothing’s gonna change that, Chuck. It doesn’t matter to us…they’re ours, both of them.”

“Our babies,” Erik agrees as Charles gapes at them, too stunned to speak. “We’ll love them and take care of them. All three of us, together.”

Charles can hardly believe it; after months of bickering and driving him crazy are they really going to just--

“You’re sure? You’re both okay with not knowing? Really?”

“Really,” Logan says emphatically.

“Yes,” Erik answers, looking as serious as he’s ever been about…well _anything_ , since Charles has known him.

Charles shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say okay,” Moira encourages, “say you deserve this after all the craziness these two have put you through.”

He absolutely does not choke up a little, the thought of Erik and Logan putting their differences aside (and their bickering over Charles) to love the girls wholeheartedly warming him from the inside out.

“Thank you,” he says, feeling both relieved and grateful. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

And then – he really should have expected it, because things are just going _too bloody well_ – Logan pulls out a ring box from his pocket and says;

“What do you say, Chuck? Want to get married?”

“Howlett!” Erik hollers.

Both babies start wailing simultaneously at the top of their lungs.


End file.
